Three weeks ago, my wife, Stacey, and I began seeing a marriage therapist. My wife had picked her, a friend of a friend. Our first session was not remarkable, just a get-to-know-you meeting during which introductions were made and the fundamentals of the friction in our relationship was articulated. Sandra, the councilor, seemed competent, but somewhat aggressive. At one point in our second meeting she admonished me for “talking too much and not listening.” I remained silent for the remainder of our session, and my wife did most of the talking, more like venting than “talking.” The gist of her complaint was “he just has too much testosterone.” Sandra summarized our meeting by suggesting “we had made significant progress and we should all reflect on what we had shared.’ Our third meeting was different than the first two. Sandra began out session by suggesting our problem might be medical, not phycological, and we might benefit by meeting with a physician. My wife asked Sandra for a referral, and she suggested a colleague, Dr. Moriarty, a specialist in “exactly the problems we are experiencing.”
The next day, Stacey told me she had made an appointment with Dr. Moriarty for Wednesday at 9:00 in the morning. Well into getting ready on Wednesday, I noticed that Stacey was still lounging in bed, listening to the news on her laptop. I suggested she needed to hurry up, and it was only then that I learned that the appointment was for me, not us. Puzzled, I continued to get ready for the appointment. I wanted to ask my wife several questions, such as why “the medical problem was mine and not ours,” but I didn’t know how to frame my concern.
“Michael?” “That’s me.” I said, standing up and following the receptionist. I was led to a small room, typical of an examination room with a paper-covered table, a digital thermometer, a box of sterile wipes, an iPad, and some digital art on the walls. As the receptionist left the room, she pointed to a teal-colored hospital gown on the exam table and said, “please remove your clothing.” The gown was typically open-backed. Undressing, I elected to leave my boxer shorts and socks on before putting on the gown.
A moment after covering myself with the gown, with a knock, the door opened before I could respond. “I’m Doctor Moriarty” she said, extending her hand. Paralyzed, I was incapable of raising my arm to great her. Without hesitation, she grasped my hand, still by my side, and smiled as she looked directly in my misdirected eyes. “Nice to meet you, Michael, I’m Karen.”
“Give me a moment to set up,” Karen said, as she assembled a tripod, mounted a camera, and fiddled with the settings, finally standing behind the camera to focused it on me. She explained that she always likes to have a photo on file for each of her patients. I signed an authorization form for photos and she proceeded to ask the usual pre-exam questions. Do I smoke, do drugs, have unprotected sex, etc.
Dr. Moriarty picked up the iPad, opening my file, she looked up and said “Oh, sorry. Go ahead and remove the gown. I began sweating as I reached behind to untie the gown. Letting the gown fall to the floor, I stood naked except for my boxer shorts. Looking up from the iPad, Dr. Moriarty explained that I would have to be nude for the examination.
Walking to the chair on which I had folded my clothes, bent down and took off my socks, stuffing them in my shoes then I slipped my underwear off and stepped out of them and covered my genitals with my hands before walking back to the exam table.
“Ok, Michael, please stand on the X and put your arms by your side.” I looked down at the floor on which there was a taped “X”. Standing on the “X” and reluctantly removing my hands guarding my genitals, the doctor’s thought process was interrupted when she looked down at my penis. “Um… hmm. Well, we’ll get to that”. Dr.Moriarty refocused the camera and instructed me to “slowly rotate while standing on the X.”
“OK , just hop up on the table….” She proceeded with a very normal exam, eyes throat, ears, chest, heart. Asking me to turn around and bend over the examination table she checked stretched and probed testicles. In my prone position, I heard the snap of rubber gloves. A moment later she commanded “relax”, and I felt her probe by anus. I grunted as she slid two fingers inside my ass. I could feel her wiggle them a bit encircling my prostate. She pulled her fingers out and said “All right, you can stand up and turn around.
“Any erectile disfunction? Difficulty getting hard?” “Nope.”“How often do orgasm or ejaculate would you say? Daily? Every other day? Weekly? Monthly? “Just about every day- sometimes a couple times a day” I said. Her eyes widened. “Is the seamen clear, cloudy, thick, thin?” She asked as he continued to examine my penis, lifting it up and pulling it out. “Um… it tends to be kind of clear or cloudy.” “I’m going to need a urine and semen sample. We can do that today, I have a container here. Can you go ahead and fill this one with urine?” “Sure thing. Is there a bathroom I can go into?” “Oh yes, it’s right there.” He pointed to a toilet and sink that was thru an archway. There wasn’t a door.
I took the cup from her. Still naked, I wanted more privacy, but felt too intimidated to articulate my embarrassment. I hopped down from the table and stepped into the toilet area. I held the cup under my penis and after a moment being pee shy, was able to piss. It as a big cup so there was no spilling. I brought it back into the room and sat it on the counter by the doctor’s computer.
“Great. I’ll get to the semen sample in a bit. I just need to check something.”
I started to say something but couldn’t quite manage to get anything out. “Umm..aaa” I was standing by the exam table when she took out a small ruler and once again measured my soft penis— but as soon as she touched it with the ruler I got hard. “Ah, good” she said as she measured my erect penis as well. “Is that fully erect?” She asked.
I looked down.. embarrassed. “Um.. yeah. Sorry about that doc. So, why do we need a semen sample?” I sat down on the exam table covering my hard dick by folding my hands in my lap.
“Oh, it’s standard in cases like these. And I needed to take an erect measurement anyway so no need to be embarrassed”. She sat down on his stool and rolled up to me. “But I’m afraid I have some bad news, Michael. Your penis is far too small for a full-grown man. Basically as a fetus we all start female. Some of us develop a clitorus and some a penis— you started a penis but never got there. I have a pamphlet here that will explain everything but it all boils down to this: It’s very dangerous for guys with your condition to orgasm very often. Masturbation is not recommended. Ever. You said that you ejaculate once a day, right? That’s far too often for someone with a penis of your size. You see, men with normal penises— say 6” long, can come once a day with no problems. Even more. Guys with much larger members— say 8” should really come multiple times a day to prevent a backup. But guys like you, who don’t have an actual full-grown penis- you should only release semen once a month and then the preferred method is direct prostate stimulation. We’ll do that today in the office so you know how it’s done. Basically, your orgasm days are over.”
I was in shock— I looked down at the pamphlet. ‘So You Have a A Tiny Penis” It contained pictures of penises slightly larger than mine labeled “Adult male with tiny penis” and then photos of guys that looked hung like a horse labeled “average adult male”. I also noticed that I was still hard a rock.
“What we normally do in cases like yours is prescribe a chastity device. I have a device here today that I’ll fit on you.” She pulled a plastic device from a drawer. “Now, you are to wear it at all times. I’ll secure it with a special lock here today. If you need to remove it for any medical need just make an appointment and I’ll take it off for an examination. But then it goes right back on.
She lubed up the device with a tube of goo. “This is a lubricant that I’ll give you a sample of today.” Then she applied the lube to my penis. I moaned a bit at the touch of her gloved hand. “Please relax” she said. Then she slipped a plastic ring around my scrotum and penis, and slid a short plastic tube over the penis that then connected to the ring. She then locked it together with small lock. There was no key in sight. Then she snapped a picture of it. “This is for our records.”.
“Now, as I said, masturbation would be very dangerous for you. But once a week you should have a release of built of fluid. You can do this by stimulating the prostate directly. I’ll also write you a prescription for either a prostate massager, butt plug, or dildo. I have a probe here for us to use today. Now just sit back on the exam table and put your feet in these stirrups”. I saw her pull a dildo out of the same drawer.
I stammered.. “Um… ok… how common is this problem doc?” I asked as I laid back and put my feet in the stirrups. I looked at my bare toes pointing at the ceiling and then down the plastic cage that contained my penis.
“It’s very rare, actually. I mean, you have the smallest penis I’ve ever seen, Michael. I’m shocked that this is all news to you. Little pressure here…” she said as he shoved the dildo like probe into my ass. I moaned. “OHahahhha FUUUCK!!” “Sorry Michael, this is the smallest probe I have here- but it will get the job done. Now just try to relax.”
She moved the dildo back and forth in my asshole— I relaxed into it quickly and started breathing heavy. She wasn’t even putting it in that deep— just enough to ram it against my prostate. Short quick thrusts. Initially, my semi-hard dick was bouncing inside the cage, but before long it became completely flaccid. After ten of fifteen minutes precum began leaking all over my stomach. “There we go… get it all out,” she said as he slowed down the thrusts. She started a milking slow motion. My dick was bouncing flaccid within its confines, but it was pleasurable. “Oh god, Doc.. I think I’m going to cum” I said. Then I felt the dildo pop out of my ass. “You already did cum, Michael. You see, that fluid is all you should be releasing. Ok?” She took a swab and collected the clear ejaculate from my stomach and from the plastic cage into a small container labeled “semen specimen”. “This process is sometimes called milking.”
Taking a wipe from the box on the desk, she cleaned my asshole a bit and said “You’re all set. Just let me do some paperwork here.”
I looked at her, my balls aching, my dick hard as it could be inside the cage, I was completely naked but for my new cock cage. My heart was racing. I was kind of in shock. I had questions but couldn’t think of them.
I put my legs down and sat up on the table. “But Doc, I… don’t think I finished. I mean… I’m… I feel like I need to go finish or something. Like I’m aroused now.” “That’s normal and healthy. You need to stay that way.” she said while working on the iPad. “Now, I’m entering you into an international database of locked men. You need to have this ID card with you all times so that if you’re strip searched or when you go through airport security, they’ll know that you have a this condition and you have to wear this device.”
She handed me a card with a photo of my face from my file and a photo of my locked up penis. It said “Michael <Last Name> doesn’t have a normal sized penis and must wear this device as prescribed by Doctor <First Name> Moriarty.” Eventually, your plastic cage will be replaced with a more secure metal cage. If you fly, for example, the TSA will certainly detect it. This card will explain your situation.”
“Ok, here is your prescription for the prostate massager and the lube. Just explain to the pharmacist that your penis is especially small. They’ll know what you need. And, you’re all set, Michael. I want to see you back here in a month to check on your progress. She shook my hand and walked out. I sat there, naked, my dick inside a plastic cage that I couldn’t remove.
Although still before noon, I was too traumatized to go to work, and instead went home. However, I was not thinking clearly, as when I walked through the door, I was greeted by my wife. I was speechless. She smiled and told me “Don’t be embarrassed, dear,” and she explained “Dr. Moriarty just called and explained your therapy.” “She also texted me a list of rules that will facilitate your treatment.” “She explained that you will face challenges as you transition to an orgasm-free life.” “I have an appointment to learn the process of milking.” I understand you will feel uncomfortable. We should also talk about sex. I have been told by Sandra and Doctor Moriarty have told me that we should explore alternative sex, perhaps some role reversal. Doctor Moriarty told me you seemed to enjoy it when she penetrated your ass.